WGT

   Discussing Poetry
                               over
                                          Dinner

. . . and so . . .

I put my fork aside, adjusted my napkin, and began

Yesterday, I sat down to a feast of poetry
Cooked up by steamy, rising young poets and served on new plates
I flipped through its tantalizing menu

Appetite ready to choose a possible pleaser

Unfortunately, the first poem’s flavor was dulled in a spaghetti of obscurity
Clung to by a thick spiced sauce of overcooked metaphors and illusions
It was a heavy concoction burdened with salty emotion

Having no beginning nor ending and giving no satisfaction

Very well, I thought, I'll try another poem
I paged to a beef steak raw protest of gang life betrayed and street loves gone wrong
It was garnished with drugs, bullet peppered and blackened
Then drowned in a gravy of resentment
A chef's bad day creation

There were more dishes to sample
Some were cooked and stirred to choking blandness
And others too sweet to taste for long
Being drowned in syrupy self preoccupations and worn out slights

Creations of young poets craving self indulgence

Unsure of the finer dishes and traditions that life would soon offer

But after a long search I found a few that were perfection
Poems leaving pleasant tastes and promises of new delights
They were quite good, really

Inviting me back again
Exquisite creations to anticipate and savor . . .

With that said, I picked up my fork and tried the chocolate torte

C 10/07
Sandy Hartman

 

Here come the summer holidays, dear reader.  Again, a time to celebrate our fortunes and misfortunes, our friends and family, and those other things that sustain us. . .

Most especially the gift to create and express our feelings about them.

www.eonwriter.com          

Sandy Hartman